


Assortment of Curiosities

by Luthienberen



Series: Inspector Gregson!Witch [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Inspector Gregson is awoken before dawn due to a mysterious machine that Doctor Watson has brought as a gift for Mr Holmes. Alas, it appears that the devious device is less than innocent.
Series: Inspector Gregson!Witch [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377490
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	1. Mysterious Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Watsons Woes](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/) July Writing Prompts 2020.  
>  _Prompt 1: Creative Machinery: Take inspiration from the following video for today's work. How you choose to use the inspiration is up to you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LC8PYq_VS0_  
> 

He was shaken awake by his uncle's hand on his shoulder and earnest voice. Gregson was instantly alert. 

"Uncle, what's the matter?" 

"Doctor Watson is here and is extremely agitated. He says his problem requires one of us to attend."

Ah, that meant magic was afoot. Seeing that his uncle also understood Gregson rubbed a hand through his blond hair. His bedroom was shrouded in darkness apart from the candle his uncle held, so it had to be pre-dawn.

Gregson knew that Watson wouldn't come for a silly reason, so he responded to his Uncle’s unvoiced question, saying, "Tell Dr Watson I shall be down directly."

Nodding, his uncle departed, turning on the gas lamp as he did. Gregson dressed in haste and with the efficiency honed by years spent as a police officer. In less than fifteen minutes he was clad and bearing a bag containing items he prayed he would not require; still, best to be cautious.

He met an anxious Watson in his living room, the man a bundle of raw energy. Yet the good doctor spared a friendly smile for him and in a jiffy they were outside and climbing into a waiting Gig. Watson took the reigns and they were off with a jerk that had Gregson quickly clutch the handle.

Now that they were on the way Watson explained the situation.

"It is good of you to come Gregson. I am fairly at my wits end. All I wished to do was buy Holmes a present and there was this beauty in an antiques shop. A machine of pure scientific imagination: silver balls going every which way, steam and hydraulics, painted wood and levers and a tinkling ticking clock engine."

"Has the machine broken? I am, well," Gregson lowered his voice despite the fact that only the two of them were driving this contraption, let alone that just now a grey glimmer of dawn was edging the Eastern horizon on mostly empty London roads. "I am a witch, not a physicist or engineer."

Watson's pale face and bright blue eyes were rather worrying, portraying a man who had seen more than he ought, but he expanded on his reasoning with a clarity of expression that Gregson imagined Mr Holmes appreciated – he certainly did.

"I hid the machine in my room though Holmes is away on a case until later this morning. During the night I dreamed of strange lights: orbs and little sparks, accompanied by laughter and music sounding respectively like bells and harps!"

Gregson felt sick. Oh no.

Watson saw his expression and nodded. "When I awoke there was a pool of mist beside my cupboard and my surgeon's case had vanished. The machine was on the dresser next to the cupboard and all the silver balls had reversed physics! I near fainted at the sight of the lights dancing about the device and forming a frothing stream downwards to the misty pool. Meanwhile I heard lilting voices in the hall! I knew I had to act fast, so came directly."

"Mrs Hudson and the maids?"

"Secure. I recalled my folklore and placed iron pokers across their doorways. They deemed me mad, but swore to not leave their rooms until we returned "

Encouraged by this Gregson relaxed a little, mind a gale of activity. 

"You acted with speed and wisdom Watson. Though perhaps only the companion to Mr Sherlock Holmes could purchase a device leading directly to the fairy realm."

The good doctor actually laughed at that and as they drew to a stop in front of 221B Baker Street he said, "That may be so, but pray let us move swiftly before Holmes returns. I shudder to contemplate what mischief will ensue then, because he _will_ demand to investigate the device if he sees it."

Gregson's pride was not at all injured by the burst of speed this thought granted him, and he fair flew up the stairs with Watson on his heels to face the machine which had opened a portal to another realm. Once they had finished their business here they would visit this antique shop, _before_ Mr Holmes discovered the shop.

Gregson greatly desired some peace in his life and the existence of this supposed antiques shop promised to upset that finally tuned balance.


	2. Blessed Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspector Gregson and Watson try to reach the strange and mysterious machine Watson had brought for Mr Holmes as a gift. Alas, their efforts are hindered by a green entity who would rather they didn’t close the door between worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [Watsons Woes](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org) July Writing Prompts 2020.  
>  _Prompt 3: Green Grow the Rushes, Oh!: Your inspiration today is anything green: grass, leaves, emeralds, a visiting alien, someone who is green with envy…_
> 
> I blame the prompter for this, I mean…with the line of “…a visiting alien…” how could I resist? *my excuse*
> 
> _Continuation of events in Chapter 1, where Gregson and Watson attempt to retrieve the strange machine Watson purchased as a gift for Holmes._

* * *

Upon gaining the landing at the top of the stairs Gregson paused at the sight and sensations that assailed him.

The grey mist had spread outside the doctor’s bedroom and was now lying in a thin layer just a couple of inches from Gregson’s boots. It reminded Gregson of the scummy layer on a pond much choked with weeds, for specks of green foam would bubble to the surface to disappear, whilst on the edge of hearing was that tinkling laughter reminiscent of bells and the distant music of harps.

Combined together it was distinctly enchanting and on instinct Gregson placed an arm in front of Doctor Watson who was edging towards the mist.

“I do not think you wish to visit the fairy realm or whatever lies beyond.”

“Oh, no,” consented Watson who sounded dazed. Glancing over at his companion Gregson saw the unfocused glaze to the normally bright blue eyes and he hastily shook the doctor who awoke as if from a dream.

Worry pooled in Gregson’s belly even as his skin prickled. Releasing Watson, though now keeping one arm in front of the doctor, the other on his bag, he faced the mist and considered the best approach.

He was conscious of the greasy feel to the air, similar to the sensation just after a thunder and lightning storm – as if an electric charge had discharged and even though everything appeared placid the threat of another surge of electricity was ever present.

_I need to get to that machine._

As if summoned by his decision an entity popped out from the mist and as you please stood there examining them with a deceptively friendly smile.

“He’s green,” whispered Watson weakly.

“He is however he wishes to appear to us.”

The entity frowned clearly displeased, before abruptly smiling. Experience saved them both as Gregson hissed for Watson to cover his ears. The doctor obeyed and observed him curiously, but with any fear safely stored away. The solider within understood that any evidence fear would grant this entity favourable ground.

Pleased, Gregson steeled his nerves as the entity picked up the singing and harp-like music in earnest. He sang of whatever _they_ could conjure from his mind and memories.

_Green fields and the flowering evergreens. The dark forest green of his shirt as he hiked in the woods, the fresh earthy scent of soil and the green toads hopping about as he avoided them at night._

_The medley of colours of his herbs when creating his potions or creams, or the sage he lit and burned to cleanse the air of malicious spirits._

Shuddering and expelling the honeyed memories Gregson dragged out of his bag two iron horseshoes. The entity jolted to a halt in its singing and eyes ablaze with fury watched as he pried Watson’s left hand from his ear and placed it in his palm.

Gregson then stepped into the mist brandishing his iron horseshoe and the entity snarled and spat even as it retreated.

They were fortunate. The entity was young otherwise the battle would have been much trickier. Yet they had little time so Gregson went ahead with Watson shouting the directions to his room.

Bursting through the door, muttering a protective chant as he went, Gregson paused upon sighting the machine ticking and tinkling away, silver balls defying physics without nary a concern in this world or the other one it was connected to. Golden lights bobbed and darted about, forming a flowing golden stream from the machine to the grey mist that surrounded their ankles with a deathly chill.

Undesiring of entering through the opened doorway that the mist offered – and aware that only the iron horseshoes were preventing them from being dragged through, along with his constant chants – Gregson steeled himself to grab the machine.

He felt Watson slip his arm through his and met the determined gaze.

“I know that look well with Sherlock. You shan’t be going anywhere without me.”

“Stubborn detectives require stubborn and faithful doctors?”

“ _Faithful_ and stubborn detectives require stubborn and faithful doctors,” corrected Watson tartly, “as do witches who are Police Inspectors. Now, we best proceed before Holmes returns home or Mrs Hudson and the maids decide to help.”

Grinning at Watson’s courage and resolve, Gregson inhaled sharply and not daring to put his bag down lest it become lost, tucked his horseshoe in his pocket and with his now free right hand reached for the machine.


	3. Changing Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspector Gregson and Watson find themselves in a curious place, but is it real or a figment of their imagination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [Watsons Woes](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org) July Writing Prompts 2020.  
>  _Prompt 3: Retro Picture Prompt:: One of the most popular prompts of its year, take inspiration from this picture prompt from a previous JWP. Picture of a hole in a rocky outcrop._

* * *

The world went black with a frightful feeling that they were in motion, as if on a train hurtling forward at speeds faster than conceivable. Gregson could hardly breathe past the pain screaming through his hand where he had grabbed the peculiar machine.

His lungs burned with agony that crackled as if an electric current was fixed, smouldered into his bones and sinew, turning his nerves to wires to transport the electrical charge.

Yet the charge was that of this device, this machine, defending itself.

_It was alive._

A living conduit between this earthly realm and the many other worlds which made up the material and non-material planes.

Watson’s arm through his was Gregson’s only focal point to the living tangible world and he desperately sought to pin a part of his conscious on that while attempting to speak not with his tongue or mouth, but with his mind.

_We do not seek to destroy you, but to take you away from here. You are damaging my friend’s home and endangering his companions by the door you have unlocked._

Distrust met his sentiment so Gregson did his best to allow for a single moment in time – if time existed wherever they were – open access to his true thoughts.

_Help us and I will find a new home for you where you can exist and live as you desire, as long as you do no harm._

Gregson would have collapsed under the onslaught of the machine’s own mind that slammed into him, and with a precision that mimicked a finely tuned and ordered clock examined his thoughts. There was no malice in the action, it merely was that the machine was so alien to his own existence that its touch was beyond comprehension.

Yet the magic of life and a soul shone brightly through and Gregson would not do harm where harm was not intended. He also understood one thing: whatever or whoever the machine was, it hadn’t realised the danger it had brought upon Watson.

It was merely fulfilling its function.

The instant the device believed his true intentions and agreed to his offer was obvious.

_I CONSENT._

A tidal wave of pure conscious energy slammed into him, which nearly fragmented his mind leaving Gregson barely lucid. As it was, they now jarred to a stop and hung in nothingness, without time or direction until to Gregson’s surprise he was jerked backwards and found himself on the floor of Watson’s bedroom.

He blinked and gradually the room came into focus. He was relieved to find that it was absent of the grey mist and that the machine was still clenched in his now numb hand and arm.

Doctor Watson was bent over him, face pale.

“How?” and Gregson winced at the croak, his throat was if he had been screaming in pain.

Watson lifted a glass of water to his lips and Gregson wondered confusedly how long he had been out for the doctor to fetch the glass and water.

“When you grabbed that infernal device the world went dark and we were speeding – almost as if we had taken seats on the fastest train in the world!”

Ah, the thrilled note revealed Watson’s adventurer spirit and Gregson smiled weakly though happily.

“You were rigid and I could see the glow surrounding your hand and the machine. I couldn’t rouse you and had the most peculiar notion that there was no sound or time where we were. As a man of science that quite unnerved me, but I decided I best leave you to solving the magical aspect of our journey whilst I sought a more physical departure. So I listened to Holmes’ advice and _observed_ what I saw.”

Doctor Watson paused to help him sit up and supported him to the bed to sit on the edge. There, Watson began tending to his hand and arm, allowing Gregson, with some awkwardness and considerable pain, to place the living machine gently and reverently on the coverlet.

Gregson saw the minor burn marks on his right hand and shuddered, but Watson said nothing and proceeded to clean the area, apply ointment and a bandage.

Only once he had finished did an infectious grin appear and Doctor Watson said, “I observed that if we were travelling on a train in a tunnel that there must be an entrance and exit, because I refused to allow there to be no exit – we doctors do not give up easily. So I looked to the right and ahead – just as if I were peering out of a window – and behold! A light. Somehow I also knew you were finished with your task; the silence was different somehow…not so empty?”

Gregson merely nodded, awed at how different their experiences had been. They had witnessed a similar beginning, but the rest of the journey was entirely opposite. Quite marvellous and Gregson suffered a pang in wishing he had time to explore whatever temporary reality they had been immersed in minutes ago.

Watson rose from kneeling and began to pull together a dose of laudanum, which Gregson drank gratefully.

“I decided to be quick about it, so decided that we would disembark and run for the light. Sorry to drag you about old fellow, but I couldn’t rouse you and thought simply acting better than waiting. Upon entering the light I found we were back in my bedroom with the mist gone and our visitors and music also absent. Baker Street also felt normal again. However, I still couldn’t’ rouse you, therefore I laid you on the floor and rushed to free Mrs Hudson and the maids. They are preparing breakfast for us which you shall eat before we proceed.”

The incredibly courageous and daring doctor sat on the bed next to him, mindful of the device.

“Did I do right Gregson?”

Gregson smiled at the slight uncertainty, and couldn’t help his admiration shine through in his reply.

“Doctor Watson, your actions saved us both for we would still be trapped in whatever realm we had been taken to when I touched the device. Your actions since our return have been beyond reproach.”

Watson blushed with happiness and was clearly ready to protest, but Gregson prevented any such behaviour.

“No, I’m right Watson. Your actions saved us for I was quite unable to after my conversation with the machine.”

“Conversation?”

“Our mysterious machine is alive and has agreed to do no further harm, providing we find a safe and happy home for it.”

Watson’s shock was amusing and at least Gregson was no longer alone in suffering such a shock. Life, it appeared, was far more complex than hitherto realised.

“Watson? What is afoot here?” Mr Holmes’ call and sure foot on the stair reached them.

Watson’s wide eyes met his and Gregson just sighed. So much for resolving the crisis before Mr Holmes was home.

Life was _indeed_ far more complex than hitherto realised and had just become a little moreso with the return of one clever, observant and eager detective.

So much for peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [Inspector Gregson!Witch](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377490) Universe.


End file.
